


It's Not The End

by DramaticNia



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimates, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hospitals, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, One Shot, Protective Wade Wilson, Ultimate Spider-Man - Freeform, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticNia/pseuds/DramaticNia
Summary: "They might be able to smell my blood," said Peter. "Or sense that I might, ah.. Might...""No," Wade snapped. "You're not dying, not turning into one of those… things. Not on my watch."It wouldn't be your choice,Peter thought.~Maybe it's going to be the end of the world,but is it also over for Peter and Wade?!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	It's Not The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ~  
> Please pay attention to the tags before reading ~  
> Hope you enjoy ~ ❤️

"Wade," said Peter.

"Turn that off, baby boy. The battery won't last forever, you know."

"What if someone sends us a message?"

"It won't matter if we're not around to answer it. Turn it off. The light might attract them."

Sighing, Peter powered the phone down, plunging them into darkness. The thin walls of the shed creaked in the wind, and Peter sat back with a grunt, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

Wade was hyper-vigilant, creeping around the shed, pausing to listen for the sounds of the dead. He shifted somewhere close. "Are you okay, Petey?"

"I'm fine," Peter lied.

"Are you sick?" Wade came closer, walking in a crouch, "Are you... bitten?"

"I'm not bitten, Wade," Peter assured him. "Just tired. That branch did a number on me."

Wade winced, no doubt remembering last week’s storm. They'd been running through the streets, trying to find shelter, when a tree had fallen, catching Peter's leg and pinning him. Wade had gotten him out before the dead had caught up with them, but Peter had been walking with a limp ever since.

"You need more time to heal, baby boy," Wade said in a low voice. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, Wade," Peter cringed as a bead of sweat slid down his back. "I can deal with a little pain. Remember? I'm not fragile." Peter joked bitterly.

"Can I see it?"

Peter shook his head, then realized the gesture was pointless, as it was completely dark. "I'd rather you didn't. I don't want anyone to touch it."

"I won't touch it. Promise. I just want to see if it's infected or not."

Before Peter could protest, Wade whipped out a penlight and a knife, slitting the leg of Peter's pants and peeling back the stiff fabric. Peter bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, hands clenching into fists.

Wade shone the small beam of light up and down Peter's leg. Peter watched horror overtake his boyfriend's face.

"Is it really that ugly?" Peter joked, tears in his eyes.

When Wade looked up at him again, the horror was replaced by betrayal. His face looked eerie in the dim light. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

"It's not that bad," said Peter. "It looks worse than it-"

"How can you even walk?"

"How can I not walk?" Peter cracked a smile. "I could never leave you, Wade."

Wade's face smoothed out, and he was back in survival mode. "Okay. Well, it's really swollen, and it's probably already infected, which is... bad." Wade paused. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"Waaade, we both know there won't be-"

"There fucking has to be," Wade said with a surprising amount of venom.

Peter drew in a shaking breath. "W-wade,"

"This isn't up for discussion, Peter. You're going to be fine."

"Wade," Peter insisted.

"Don't-"

"Wade!" Peter hissed. "I can hear them."

Wade went silent, clicking off his light. Sure enough, the groans of the dead had drawn close.

"Fuck." Wade hissed.

"They might be able to smell my blood," said Peter. "Or sense that I might, ah.. Might..."

"No," Wade snapped. "You're not dying, not turning into one of those… things. Not on my watch."

 _It wouldn't be your choice,_ Peter thought.

"We'll wait for them to move past, and then we'll head for the city," Wade said.

"Wade, it’s not s-"

"We're getting you help," Wade said, “and don't argue with me."

"What happened?" Peter marveled. "When did you become this person? Dominating _Spiderman_? Really?!"

"When the end of the world happened," Wade said, retrieving his pack from the corner of the shed. "This is what happens. You adapt, or you die."

Minutes passed, and when the sounds of the dead had faded, Wade stood, slinging Peter's arm around his shoulder. Peter stumbled alongside him, tripping over his own feet as Wade led him out into the deserted street.

"I'll find a car to hotwire, and I'll drive us into the city," Wade said.

"It'll draw too much attention," Peter objected. "We can't-"

"You can't even fucking _walk_!" Wade snapped. Then inhaled a deep breath trying to calm himself and repeated, "I'm finding a car."

More minutes dragged by. Peter tried to hop along, keeping pressure off his injured leg. His body felt uncomfortably hot, and he could feel fresh blood trickling into his ruined sneakers. Each time his foot brushed the ground, his head pulsed.

"You gonna make it?" Wade asked as Peter staggered for the umpteenth time.

"Ahh," Peter panted, sweat dripping down his forehead.

Wade holstered his pistol and felt at Peter's forehead. "Shit, you're burning up."

"Uhn... I can... make it. I can m... hh."

Peter nearly fainted, then, knees weakening. Somehow sensing this, Wade knelt and swept Peter off his feet. Peter bit down on his own hand to keep from screaming when his infected leg was jostled.

"Stay with me," Wade said. "We're almost there."

"Liar."

"Stay awake, and you can insult me all you like," Wade said.

"Hnh."

Carefully, Wade put one hand under Peter's kneecaps and the other near his shoulders and slowly lifted him up.

"You're so light." Wade moved faster.

"L-like a ballerina?"

"You're more beautiful than all of them."

Peter huffed a laugh. "Haven't showered... 'n weeks."

"So what? You're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in all my lives. Sorry, I don't make the rules."

Peter whimpered again. "W-wa..de..."

"Yeah?" Wade said.

"I… l-love you... t-too"

Wade stumbled as his heart hurt in his chest and Peter's legs knocked together. Red overtook his vision.

~

When Peter came to, it was to of a sharp stab of pain. He cried out, eyes flying open.

"Petey? oh my goodness, Peter, thank God." Wade was sitting in the front seat of a car. Peter realized he was stretched out in the back seat, head propped up on Wade's backpack.

"Wh... happn'd?"

"We got chased. I barely got away," Wade said. "How do you feel?"

"...Shitty," Peter croaked.

Wade passed a bottle of water back to him, and Peter took a deep swallow. Wade watched him in the rearview mirror.

"Where... ah... W-where are we?" Peter's vision swam.

"Nearly there," Wade said. "I think there's a base nearby."

"So?"

"So we're going there, baby boy."

Peter's eyes widened, lucidity momentarily restored by the shock. "W-wade, we can't... You always said-"

"Yeah, well, fuck what I said... you weren't dying when I said that." Wade's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"W-we can't," Peter repeated. "It's too risky."

"Petey-pie," Wade said, and he sounded like he was on the edge of tears. "You can't die. You can't. Okay? If we have to go to the government for help, then we will."

Another stab of pain, like a bolt of lightning up his leg. Peter threw his head back, and it thumped against the window.

"Peter?"

"Ah... I'm... I'm o-okay. Gahh. K-keep... driving."

"We're almost there," Wade said. "Hold on."

~

The next time Peter regained consciousness, he was being carried through a hallway. Bright, artificial light burned his eyes.

"W-wade?"

"Afraid not, son," said the person carrying him. "Don't worry, we'll get you fixed up."

He was laid out on a bed and stripped of his clothes.

"His leg," someone said. "He's bitten."

"Oh, shit, you're right!"

"No swelling, though. Sure it's a dead's?"

"He's got a fever, is that a symptom?"

"His leg looks fucking terrible."

Someone heaved a sigh. "It doesn't matter whether he's bitten or not. We can't spare the medicine. We're almost out as it is."

"We can tell his partner he didn't make it, throw the body out when he's gone."

 _No,_ Peter thought. _No_...

"P-please," he whispered.

"Sorry, son," came the voice from before. "This is how the world works now."

"Should we inject him?"

Someone snorted. "Why bother? Open up his leg, lock him in one of the closets, he'll be dead in an hour."

 _No, god, please,_ Peter begged. _Wade... I can't..._

Something cut into his leg, and he screamed, and his consciousness fled once again.

~

His eyes fluttered open. He was laying on hard mattress, and somebody was cleaning his leg with a sponge. The intense sting and smell let him know they were using rubbing alcohol.

"Wade," he moaned.

"Yes, yes, so you've said." The person looked up at him, and her eyes widened. "Oh, you're awake. How do you feel?"

"W-where's... Wade..."

"I can get you to him, but only after I fix you up," she said. "I hoped you'd stay out for this, seeing as I don't have any anesthetics..."

She handed him a tough strap of leather. "Try not to make too much noise. Pass out if you can." She pulled on a pair of black latex gloves and took a deep breath. "Okay, pretty boy, let's get you stitched up."

"You think I'm pretty?" he mumbled, trying for a half-smile.

"At least you've still got a sense of humor," she said. "Bite down. This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

She was right — it hurt. A lot. He bit down on the leather, trying to keep from moving, but his back arched and his eyes rolled back, and it was too much...

~

Somebody was dragging him, floor moving underneath his legs. His head lolled back. A blast of chilly air hit him, and a door slammed shut.

Faint voices.

"I can let you see the body," the girl said. "It's against protocol, but I hate to see you like this. Promise you won't tell anyone."

"...I promise."

 _Wade,_ Peter realized.

“W-wade,” he tried to say, but his lips and eyes felt glued shut.

A door opened and closed, and something touched his face.

"H-he... He's... warm," whispered Wade, and Peter's heart broke.

"Because he's alive," said the girl.

"Liar," Wade said, no inflection or accusation in his voice. His fingers traced Peter's cheekbone.

"Look, I had to lie to you, or you would've caused a scene, and don't tell you wouldn't have. Feel his neck. There's a pulse there, promise."

Wade's fingers, rough and familiar, pressed at Peter's throat. Peter swallowed, mouth dry, and forced his eyelids to lift.

"W-wade," he whispered.

"Y-you're alive," Wade breathed, his dead eyes coming back to life. It was like watching a flower bloom. "You're alive!"

"T-thanks to... her," Peter managed.

The girl was standing with her back pressed against the door. "Just doing my job. Used to be a nurse before shit went down, you know? Now, we're damned butchers."

"Th-they were... g-going to..." Peter wheezed, breathing accelerating.

"Leave you for dead," the nurse spat. "We never get to help strangers anymore. This place is a damn prison, now. Nobody goes in, or out."

"Why did you help him, then?" Wade asked, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Peter.

"Knew I could help, so I did." She held out a small tote to Wade. "Antibiotics and painkillers, enough for a few weeks. Give him the anti's twice a day, and the painkillers as he needs them. Don't OD. Should help with the fever."

"Won't they miss all this?" Wade asked, taking the bag.

"Maybe, maybe not." She shrugged. "Don't care."

Wade stood and pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," he said, voice cracking. "Thank you so much."

She returned the hug, awkwardly patting his back. "No problem. Now, get him on his feet and get out the back. There are never guards, but the door's locked."

"I can take care of that," Wade said, kneeling by Peter's side again. His voice became tender. "Do you think you can walk?"

"W-wade," Peter said, hanging off Wade's arm.

"I'm right here, baby boy." Wade said, taking Peter's hand in his and helping him to a sitting position before he kissed Peter's trembling hand lingeringly.

"Get him to one of those safe spaces I told you about," she said. "Keep him off that leg for about a week, let it heal."

Wade nodded, and as the nurse turned to go inside, he hauled Peter to his feet.

As the nurse had promised, the back exit was unguarded. Wade picked the lock easily, and helped Peter out into the street.

"I'm so glad you're not dead," Wade said after several minutes of silence.

"M-me too."

Wade huffed, but he was biting his lip and his eyes were moist. "I... Uh... I was so afraid, baby boy... I..."

"M-me too, Wade" Peter said. "T-they were going t-to... let me b-bleed out... i-in a back room... but... the n-nurse saved me. I... I h-heard her voice w-when it was happening, s-so..." His head ached. "I-it's kind of... a blur."

"It's over now," Wade said, hand tightening around Peter's thin waist. "We're never going to one of those places again."

Peter laughed, then grimaced as he knocked into a car. "G-good idea." He paused. "W-what was she talking about... w-with the safe spaces?"

"Oh. Well, she pulled me aside as I was..." Wade took a deep breath. "About to leave. She told me that there were lots of safe places in the city, with reinforced windows and things, most of them reachable by fire escape. Most of them have a specific green circle on the door to show that they're safe."

"Oh," Peter said, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. "Well... I h-hope we find one... soon..."

It was already dark, but Wade kept the two of them close to the sides of the road, to avoid the dead. Peter was clumsy with his bad leg, but he was able to stay quiet enough. Finally, in the dim light of the moon, Peter spotted a door with a green circle spray-painted on it.

"There," he whispered, pointing.

Wade nodded, and they stepped off the curb to cross the street. Peter's legs folded.

"Uhn... s-sorry..."

"You've probably lost a lot of blood," Wade said, lifting Peter into his arms.

"I'm still beautiful, though... r-right?" Peter grinned goofily, beautiful blue eyes fluttering as he fought to stay conscious.

"Obviously," Wade said, grunting as he shifted Peter to a more secure position.

Peter was set down, and watched, semi-conscious, as Wade jumped up and lowered the ladder to the fire escape.

"You have to climb a little," Wade said. "Can you make it?"

"I'll try..." Peter said weakly.

Head swimming, arms shaking, he climbed, using only one leg. He hauled himself up onto the landing with Wade's help, covered in a fresh coat of sweat.

"I was worried you were going to fall for a minute," Wade said, sighing in relief, coming up and pulling the ladder up behind himself.

"I r-really w-want a shower," Peter panted.

Wade climbed in through a window, pulling Peter through after him.

"Stay here," Wade said, flicking on his penlight and heading for the stairs.

"It's n-not like I h-have m-much of a choice..." Peter grumbled, slumping against the wall.

After a brief inspection of the small building, Wade proclaimed it safe. He returned to Peter with several pillows and blankets, which he'd deemed usable after beating the dust out of them for several minutes.

"We'll stay on the second floor," Wade said, "so we can escape if we have to. We should bed down here for at least a week and let you heal."

Peter groaned. "A... A week...?"

"Don't argue," Wade said. "Doctor's orders."

"She was a n-nurse..."

"She was a medical professional, and you're an idiot," Wade said.

Peter huffed, but he was too drained to put up much of a fight. His leg was throbbing — it felt better than before, but it still hurt.

"I'll find us some food tomorrow," Wade said.

Despite his best efforts, Peter's will to stay awake was weakening. "A-and wh... what d-do I get... to do?"

"You get to stay here and be domestic." Wade smirked as he kissed Peter on the head. "You could embroider, or stitch up my shirt. It has had rips in it for weeks."

"A-anything... to get y-your... shirt off," Peter said.

Wade laid out the thickest blanket and carried Peter onto it, propping his head up with a musty pillow and spreading a thick blanket over him.

"It's t-too hot," Peter murmured, shifting.

"That's the fever talking." Wade laid down next to Peter and pulled some of the blanket over himself.

They laid together for a while, until Wade took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Peter's thin waist, burying his face in Peter's neck and breathing his calming scent deeply in.

"God, I'm so glad you're alive," he said.

Peter held onto Wade's shirt tightly with his weak skinny hands, at a loss for words and the energy to say them. Wade traced circles on Peter's back.

"I love you so much, baby boy." Wade said and pecked Peter on the lips.  
A little smile was planted on Peter's lips and they fell asleep, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading ~  
> And please let me know your opinions about this story in the comments ~  
> Love you ~ ❤️


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